


Prima Materia

by AvieAwesome



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:14:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28643520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvieAwesome/pseuds/AvieAwesome
Summary: Lady Bulma Briefs, scientist, researcher, and hot-tempered noblewoman, has settled in the village of Mt. Paozu. Her life may be different than it was in the capital of Weston, but it is even more dangerous - terrible creatures abound in the nearby forest, and her friends have banded together to defend their home. Bulma meets a mysterious stranger who demands she research the Elixir of Life to grant him immortality. When she protests that such a potion is impossible, he assures her that he has learned how to create it. And he knows the prima materia - the starting material required for the famed elixir. AU Vegebul set in the Middle Ages.
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta
Comments: 37
Kudos: 51





	1. Calcination

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Thanks for reading. I'm excited to write my first AU in the Dragon Ball universe. I'm now on Twitter - follow me @AvieAwesome. My amazing banner picture was created by @snowprince999. Enjoy!

_Calcination is the purgation of our stone,_   
_And restoration also of its natural heat._   
_Of radical humidity it looseth none,_   
_Inducing solution into our stone most mete._   
_Seek after philosophy I you advise_   
_But not after the common guise,_   
_With sulphur and salts prepared in diverse ways._

_\-- Ripley's First Gate_

Perfect.

Bulma held her newest invention gently in the palm of her hand. She had no name for it yet. Viewing lenses? Lens pair? Bulma’s Magical Looking Glasses? Bulma internally cringed. _Well, the name can be a work-in-progress._ For now, she was satisfied they were created at all. She gave the set of lenses one more careful inspection, looking them over critically. She expected perfection from herself. Always. _Lady Bulma Briefs, you have simply outdone yourself._ The local tavern owner, Roshi, had long complained about his difficulties with his vision. Bulma was not certain if it was pity over his worsening eye issues or annoyance that he would not be quiet about it, but she had been moved to create a set of lenses that could rest on his face and hopefully help him see much clearer.

She had used quartz to craft the lenses, which seemed the most appropriate material to use. Sturdy and transparent. Bulma had considered using a metal to create the lens frames, but she was concerned that what she had available to her would be heavy and uncomfortable. After careful thought and even more careful handiwork, she had crafted the frame from leather, setting a hinge in the center to keep the lenses paired together.

Giving them a final glance, she carefully placed them in the leather carrying case she had made. Surely he would need a safe place to put his lenses when they were not in use. And if Bulma knew the old man as well as she believed, he would likely break them unless she gave him a case. Conscientiousness was not Roshi’s strongest attribute.

Finishing the lenses had consumed most of Bulma’s time for the day. It was not unusual for her to juggle many projects simultaneously. Her brain would become bored with one design and she would move to the next. Her small store was in dire need of organization, her living quarters even more so. Gears, jars of paint, tongs, strips of leather, nails, and hammers of various sizes were strewn about the floor. Her mind was never idle and neither were her hands.

_Ding!_

Bulma had tied a bell to the door of her shop to alert her to visitors. This late in the day, there would likely only be one person coming to visit her. And it was Chi-Chi. “Chi-Chi! How was your day?”

Chi-Chi was staring at the floor, aghast at the chaos. Her simple dress was designed for comfort and ease of movement; Chi-Chi may appear to be naught but a humble baker, but she was anything but. She was a well-trained martial artist, deadly with her body. The faint scents of roses clung to her. Bulma smiled to herself, knowing Chi-Chi was still using the perfume Bulma had created for her. “Bulma, what in the world happened? Did someone come and destroy your shop?”

“Only me, Chi.”

Her friend put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “Bulma, what am I to do with you?” A smirk broke through Chi-Chi’s stern expression. “You’re like a child! I have to continually remind you to clean!”

“Perhaps my mother would care to lend her assistance?” Bulma smiled sweetly. She could appear angelic when she wished to.

Chi-Chi sighed with a great deal of exaggeration. “Very well. I am growing quite famished and it’s late in the day. Hopefully this will hurry you along.”

“Your help is appreciated. Mother.”

The women bent over and began to gather Bulma’s scattered supplies. Chi-Chi had aided Bulma in her tidying so many times she didn’t have to ask where Bulma stored her tools and supplies. A comfortable silence settled between the two friends, broken only when Chi-Chi noticed one of Bulma’s half-finished inventions lurking in a corner. “What’s this? It looks marvelous.”

“An astrolabe. An astronomical device used to measure the distance between the stars and the planets and the Earth.”

“Did you invent this?” Chi-Chi carefully took the circular device and held it in her hands. It was deceptively heavy but Chi-Chi paid the weight no mind. She ran her hands over the engraved lines and designs before returning it to its place.

“Crude designs have existed since ancient times. Astronomers have had similar devices for centuries. Sailors and travelers would use them for navigational purposes as well. I cannot take credit for the invention, but I do wish to perfect it using mathematics.”

“Bulma, life has been so much more interesting in Mt. Paozu since you came to live here.” Both women dusted off their skirts, making them as presentable as possible. All gadgets and gizmos had been returned to their nooks and crannies. “Would you like to eat supper with us at the Kame House this evening? We’d love to have you join us.”

Dinner invitations from the Son family were frequent. Part of Bulma suspected they did not want their friend to be lonely, and perhaps the requests came from a place of pity. But another part of Bulma didn’t mind it. “Absolutely. I have a gift for Roshi as well.”

Chi-Chi wrinkled her nose. “Oh my. I’m almost afraid to ask what manner of gift this would be.”

Bulma laughed. “Goodness! Nothing like that.” She took the case from her pocket and opened it carefully, showing the contents to Chi-Chi. “I made this to help him see. It’s similar to a magnifying glass except that it’s worn over the eyes to assist with vision.” Bulma pointed at the construction of the lens device. “I inserted a hinge here to keep the frames together. I constructed the frames from leather. Hopefully it will be comfortable for him to wear.”

“Oh, Bulma! May I?” Chi-Chi held her hand out and Bulma gently gave them to her. Chi-Chi held them carefully as if they were a precious treasure. Bulma would not trust many people to hold them, but she did trust Chi-Chi. The woman was a talented fighter. If she could crush a man’s windpipe with barely a touch, she could certainly maintain her grip on lenses. And Chi-Chi always respected her inventions and treated them with the utmost care. “He’s going to appreciate this so very much. Bulma, you’re amazing.”

“I know.” Bulma winked at her friend. “I’ll close and lock the shop and we can go to supper. It’s been a long day.”

*************

The two women strode down the humble dirt roads of Mt. Paozu, arm-in-arm, happily chatting. When she arrived in Mt. Paozu, friendship had been an unfamiliar concept. She’d had little opportunity to create and sustain relationships in Weston. Chi-Chi had welcomed her with open arms – quite literally. She had immediately embraced Bulma and made her feel at home in the community. The two had become frequent companions. Chi-Chi also came from a life of privilege. Her father was the Ox King, the ruler of nearby Fire Mountain. Perhaps that was why the two women became fast friends. Chi-Chi was once an outsider as well.

In Weston, Bulma had been the subject of ridicule and gossip. An outspoken, confident (some would say arrogant) woman. She dared to dabble in the sciences - and would not confirm or deny the persistent rumors of her alchemical experiments. Bulma refused to marry. No gentleman could keep her interests. She was an oddity in the community of the elites, best to avoid. Little wonder she had left her childhood home for greener pastures. When she had first arrived to the small village in the shadow of Mt. Paozu, she was intriguing to her neighbors, a puzzle they needed to complete before accepting her. Understandable. But Bulma was determined to belong.

At first she was merely Bulma the Woman who Lives Alone, a curiosity to become accustomed to in the small village where everyone knew each other. Goku and Chi-Chi, a lovely young married couple who seemed perfectly suited for each other, greeted her warmly the first day she arrived. When Bulma had tears in her eyes as she gazed around her empty new home, considering the possibility she was being a terrible fool, Chi-Chi had brought Bulma fresh loaves of baked bread and Goku had brought his calming presence. They were hospitable and kind and Bulma tethered herself to them. Gradually the other villagers visited her. They became acquainted with her and fascinated with her creations. Then she earned their trust and evolved in their eyes to Bulma the Brilliant Inventor. Bulma who created fireworks on holidays and Bulma who crafted a clock that kept perfect time to be housed in the town hall. And finally she had become Bulma their Friend. Bulma who enjoyed breaking her fast with Chi-Chi each morning, Bulma who discussed philosophical theory with Tien, and Bulma who had caught the eye and romantic attentions of Yamcha.

She had disowned her silks and comforts of the city for simplicity and peace. She was Lady Bulma Briefs, a noblewoman adrift and aimless who had planted roots and grown herself in Mt. Paozu. She had no regrets.

The pair had arrived at the Kame House. It was loud, boisterous and filthy, the ale was cheap and plentiful, and the proprietor was an old rake. In other words, it was the most popular locale in Mt. Paozu.

“Bulma?” Before the women took another step towards the tavern door, Chi-Chi held on to her arm. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to halt Bulma’s steps. Chi-Chi leaned over and whispered lightly so only Bulma could hear her words if she strained her ears. “Would you be willing to create more perfume for me?” A light blush crossed Chi-Chi’s cheeks. “Goku is… quite attracted to it.”

Bulma smiled warmly. “Of course, friend.”

*************

Predictably, the Kame House was noisy, chaotic, and lively, a far cry from the stuffy clubs and social halls Bulma had experienced in Weston. She could hear a man singing poorly and loudly, and when the pair of ladies entered the tavern, she realized with a shudder it was Krillin. Krillin was Goku’s best friend, a lovely and kindhearted man who apparently could not carry a tune. “Someone really should tell him to stop.”

Chi-Chi nodded, an amused glint in her dark eyes. “Correct as always, my dear.”

“Chi! Bulma!” Bulma would know that overly excited voice in any crowd. Chi-Chi’s affable husband, Goku, had decided to yell at the top of his lungs and wave frantically to attract their attention. Goku would be difficult to miss under any circumstance. He was a giant of a man. Although he had a peaceful nature and an approachable temperament, he was a deadly swordsman. Bulma had seen him spar and take down opponents in a few fluid motions, disarming them in one moment and helping them off the ground in the next. He was responsible for organizing the protection of Mt. Paozu, and he was damn good at it, for which Bulma was eternally grateful.

Bulma and Chi-Chi sat at Goku’s table. It was wobbly and marred with holes, which fit in well with the aesthetic of Kame House. Chi sat next to her husband and he smiled warmly at her. Bulma glanced quickly around the tavern for Yamcha, of whom there was no sign. Naturally. “Are you two ladies causing mischief?”

“Always.” Chi-Chi stuck her tongue out and Goku grinned at her. They were loving and respectful of each other, and had an adorable way of teasing each other without malice. It was heart-stoppingly sweet, but did make Bulma yearn for the presence of a lover of her own. Again, Bulma glanced around the tavern, hoping it was not obvious to her friends that she was desperate for the affections of Yamcha so she didn’t feel an intruder to their supper. It was no fault of theirs she was lonely.

“I went ahead and asked for bread, egg, and cheese for us. Bulma, is that alright with you?” Goku leaned over and pretended to whisper behind his hand. “We don’t want to see Chi-Chi hungry.”

Chi-Chi glared. “I heard that, dear.”

Goku was merely telling the truth. Chi-Chi was quite irritable when her stomach was empty. Bulma grinned. “Yes, that’s fine. Thank you.”

“Bulma! Show Goku your latest invention.” Chi-Chi was excited to speak about her friend’s accomplishments. Bulma may have been utterly rejected by the Weston elite, but she had the respect of the Son family, and she was surprised at how much that had come to mean to her.

Bulma searched in the pocket of her dress, her hand pulling out the leather case. She leaned across the table and opened it, displaying the contents for Goku. “And don’t you dare touch this!” Bulma trusted Chi-Chi to be careful. Unfortunately, she could not say the same for Goku, who may become so excited he’d accidentally break them, as an enthusiastic puppy running bout the house would. “They’re for Roshi to wear. They should help correct his vision.” She removed the lenses and modeled them on her face. The device actually made her vision blurrier, but she had no issues with her eyesight, and that was to be expected.

Goku stared at her face for a moment. “They look a bit loopy.”

“The moment you create a better design, then you’re allowed to criticize me!” Bulma carefully removed the lenses and replaced them in the case. She waggled her finger in Goku’s face for good measure. “I’m concerned with functionality, not appearance!” And, truth be told, Bulma found them quite fashionable. _Loopy? For goodness’ sake._

Roshi approached the friends’ table. He always moved so slowly, seemingly in need of his cane to amble about his tavern. Bulma suspected it was a deception. “Goku, are your dinner guests teasing you? You look flustered, boy.”

“Master Roshi.” Goku nodded his head respectfully. “I’ve grown accustomed to it from these ladies. But Bulma has a gift for you.”

Roshi raised an eyebrow and Bulma could practically see the scandalous thoughts forming in his mind. “Oh? Is that so?”

“You stop that now or you won’t get a thing,” Bulma snapped. She handed Roshi the leather case, hoping that her scatterbrained idea had worked. He opened it curiously, studying the lenses. “Be careful with them. When you aren’t using them, they should be placed in the case for safekeeping. If I’m correct, wearing them will improve your vision.”

“If this works… Bulma, you’re entitled to free ale for life, as far as I’m concerned.” Roshi delicately placed the lenses on his face, and Bulma could see from the delighted expression on his face that they operated as intended. “My word! Nothing is blurry. Bulma, you’ve simply outdone yourself.” He adjusted the lenses on the bridge of his nose. “And I can see you ladies quite clearly. Oh, yes I can.”

Chi-Chi had little patience for Roshi’s lecherous behavior. “Avert your eyes. Or I’ll smash the lenses. And then your face.” She gave him the sweetest smile she could, and Bulma had little doubt Chi-Chi certainly would follow through on her threat.

Roshi nodded. “Understood! I have no desire to face your fists, Chi-Chi. I suspect Goku married you for your ability to handle yourself.” The old man turned to leave their table and return to his place at the bar. “Also for your magnificent breasts.” An enraged Chi-Chi threw a nearby empty tankard at the old man’s head. Even though he was no longer facing them, he deftly moved to avoid it as if he had a preternatural sense that the object was hurtling towards him. Bulma knew Roshi was more than he seemed to be. Many in Mt. Paozu were. She was stunned when Krillin had told her that he and Goku had trained under Roshi when they were younger. Roshi taught them everything the men knew. Despite his age, the old man was still more than capable of battling many of the evils that threatened their village. Bulma had never seen his abilities but she did not doubt them.

“Bulma?”

Bulma turned in surprise to see her suitor. “Yamcha! How are you? Would you like to join us? We’d love for you to stay.” His clothes were dirty and his face was filthy. Bulma knew he had been honing his martial training, likely with Tien. A practice yard had been created in the area behind the Kame House, and it was not unusual to find Goku and his companions practicing at all odd hours of the evening. Constant training seemed to be a necessity living in Mt. Paozu.

“Ah, if I could, I certainly would. But the practice yard is beckoning to us. We came in for a moment.” He inclined his head to Tien, who was currently inhaling a plate of food and conversing with Launch, a lovely young barmaid he seemed to be interested in.

“I understand.” Yamcha did seem regretful, and Bulma understood how important his discipline was. She could not hold that against him. “Could you come by the store tomorrow to visit?”

“Tomorrow is my patrol day, unfortunately. Perhaps the day after?”

Bulma took a deep breath. She had no desire to begin a squabble with Yamcha in the presence of the Sons. He knew as well as she did that he was usually too exhausted after his patrol to participate in any sort of activity. “Very well,” she replied. Bulma knew her irritation came through in her tone.

Yamcha narrowed his eyes. “The safety of Mt. Paozu comes before my relationships, Bulma. You know that.”

“I absolutely do! But we never seem to carve any time out for each other!”

Goku abruptly stood from the table. “Yamcha, could we go over our patrol movements for tomorrow?”

“Fine.” He caught Tien’s eye and motioned for the other man to join them. “I’ll see you in two days, Bulma.” He nodded respectfully at the women and took his leave. Yamcha and Tien trailed after Goku, the perpetual peacemaker of the troop.

Bulma rubbed her forehead with a hand, exasperated with herself and with Yamcha. She knew that Chi-Chi understood. Goku was often called away to help protect Mt. Paozu. Necessary, yes, but difficult for a relationship. “Chi-Chi, Yamcha and I have not been connecting lately. I don’t know what the trouble is. I apologize you witnessed that.”

Chi-Chi reached for her spare hand and patted it reassuringly. “All couples go through these issues, Bulma. I understand. Life in Mt. Paozu is difficult. We do the best we can.”

When Goku returned to take his seat, his face was much more serious than usual. His talk with Yamcha appeared to have unsettled him. “I apologize for that. The patrols are becoming much more complicated.”

Bulma frowned. “Why is that? Are attacks from Lord Piccolo increasing?” Lord Piccolo was the demon responsible for creating the evil creatures and monsters that dwelled in the deep forests of Mt. Paozu. Such beings would occasionally wander into the village. Bulma had only seen them a handful of times, and luckily, Lord Piccolo not at all. She hoped she never would.

Goku shook his head. “No, it seems to be something else. Something is killing the monsters.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Chi-Chi asked. “That means fewer for us to contend with.”

“I suppose it is.” Goku looked lost in thought, as if remembering unpleasant memories. “But this goes beyond mere killing. Whatever is destroying them shreds them apart completely. Viciously. And I fear the culprit may be more dangerous than Lord Piccolo himself.”

Bulma swallowed, attempting to ingest the anxiety that curdled her stomach. The forest surrounding Mt. Paozu was dangerous enough. She had little desire to encounter anything strong enough to defeat Lord Piccolo’s creatures so handily.

Their supper arrived soon after, and the friends spoke very little.

*************

Goku consistently asked to accompany Bulma back to her home, and she consistently refused. She may not be a warrior, but she was far from a wilting flower. Tonight, however, she was tempted. Bulma looked up at the heavens. The stars reassured her as they always had. A source of light and a guide for her in the darkness. Bulma had heard the myths about constellations and believed none of them, but they inspired her nonetheless. Mythological heroes and creatures could embolden some, but Bulma was heartened by celestial bodies existing eternally. She was gazing at the same stars her long-dead ancestors and her far-away parents were, and it was comforting.

_Crack._

Bulma turned her head sharply. A stick had snapped in the dirt behind her. Was something stalking her? Following her? Toying with her? She clutched her cloak a little more tightly to reassure herself. Goku’s warnings about monsters and a mysterious creature in the woods rang in her mind.

 _To hell with modesty._ Bulma gathered her skirts and ran through the muddy streets, and she did not stop until she was at her familiar wooden door.

*************

The ignorant would whisper rumors of witchcraft and demon worship. Ridiculous. Bulma had little use for the metaphysical, and had never made the acquaintance of a scientist who trafficked with demons. She was concerned with reality. With patience and persistence, Bulma had successfully transformed a variety of matter in her humble laboratory. Gold? Goodness, no. What use did she have for gold? The Briefs family had more than enough riches to last her a lifetime. Perhaps several. Bulma was fascinated by the tangible. Why did table salt burn a yellow-orange color, while Epsom salt burned white? Why did Aqua regia dissolve gold but not silver? These were the questions Bulma researched. She was interested in learning and researching, not philosophizing.

Bulma tapped her chin thoughtfully, struggling to remember what she had included in Chi-Chi’s latest batch of perfume. She could hear her father’s gentle suggestions echoing in her mind: _Always write down your experiments, girl. Preparations, ingredients… every bit of it._ Bulma smiled wistfully. She missed very little of Weston, but she did miss her parents dearly. Her father’s brilliance and reserved approval, her mother’s cheerfulness and smiling face.

Roses were Chi-Chi’s favorite flowers, and she had smelled it earlier, so that was an obvious ingredient. And she recalled using almond oil. Bulma took the decorative vial that Chi-Chi had returned to her and filled it carefully with almond oil, ensuring no drop was spilled carelessly. From a nearby basket she plucked freshly picked rose petals, lightly placing them in the vial to soak in the almond oil. There was a missing third ingredient, and the identity of it tormented her. Bulma ran her eyes over the more delightful components she possessed. Her living quarters may have looked as if a violent storm had struck it, but her laboratory was impeccably organized. Lemon? Sandalwood? Ah. As soon as she saw the lovely purple plant nestled in its box, she knew her missing ingredient was lavender. Bulma took a bit of the flower and added it to the perfume vial, leaving the vial sitting upright at rest so the flowers would soak in the oil. In a day or two, the perfume would be ready for her friend. And to assist in many amorous activities.

Bulma had heard the rumors of turning lead into gold. She doubted this was possible. Surely someone would have discovered the alchemical combination in all these years of experimenting and research. And, of course, she had heard of the Elixir of Life, a supposed substance that would grant the gift of immortality to whomever drank it. In Bulma’s not-so-humble opinion, this was even more ridiculous. According to alchemical researchers, they suspected the necessary ingredients were quite simple: Sulfur. Mercury. Salt. And, of course, the prima materia. The prima materia was the initial ingredient required in the elixir, the component necessary to ensure immortality. And what was the prima materia? Bulma had no earthly idea, and she suspected no one else did as well. It could be a rare herb growing in a lord’s garden. It could also be a rat’s toe. Regardless, Bulma had little time to chase fairy tales and legends. If others wanted to pursue such myths, it was their prerogative.

Bulma blew out the laboratory candles and went to sleep, unsettled by nightmares of villains in the forest pursuing her through shadows and mist.


	2. Solution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma tries to convince Chi-Chi to let her explode things in Mt. Paozu. An invention proves useful to the Son family. Then she meets a very rude (and very handsome) stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and comments on the first chapter. This AU means a lot to me and I'm glad others are enjoying it! I'm now on Twitter - follow me @AvieAwesome. My amazing banner picture was created by @snowprince999. And @Riptide1414 is a lovely and talented beta. Enjoy!

_Betwixt these two, equally contrary,_  
_Engendered is our mean most marvellous,_  
_Which is our Mercury and unctuous menstrum,_  
_Our secret Sulphur working invisibly,_  
_More fiercely than fire burning the body,_  
_Dissolving the body into mineral water,_  
_Which we do call night or darkness in the North._

_\-- Ripley's Second Gate_

Bulma had slept very little but that was no excuse for idleness. She may not have the physical strength needed to defend Mt. Paozu, but she had the mental aptitude.

She was determined to be useful.

Patrols were growing more dangerous. She had grown tired of inventions intended for spectacle and personal attention. Bulma was more intelligent than that. Her initial inventions were created to impress the villagers who she hoped would accept her as one of her own. Now that her goal had been met, it was time for practicality. Mt. Paozu needed her. It needed her innovation and it needed pragmatic solutions. Astronomical devices would not save Krillin if a demon’s claws were tight around his throat. If Tien was disarmed and his blades were knocked aside, out of his reach, he could not exactly use the hourglass she had crafted for him to bash in a monster’s skull.

She was confident the answer was gunpowder.

The Demon King’s army was becoming more savage and more daring. Bulma’s friends were in need of a weapon that could kill from a distance. Modernization of combat was becoming a necessity. Fireworks were useless, but surely she could harness gunpowder in a more sensible manner. Cannons were a feasible solution for the defense of the village, but how could such a large weapon be lugged along on patrol? No, Goku and his friends were in need of something more portable. A weapon with the potential to be carried and aimed, deadly and accurate.

She tapped her pen thoughtfully against her cheek and stared critically at the schematic on her desk. Pieces of parchment, crumpled out of anger, lay scattered across the floor Chi-Chi had so kindly helped her clean. Rumors of handcannons had reached her ears before leaving Weston but whoever had devised them kept their secrets close. And there was little wonder as to why. Such a weapon in the hands of Emperor Frieza’s military would lead to slaughter and violence on a level the world had not seen yet. But Bulma knew she could create this on her own. She just couldn’t overcomplicate the design, which her mind tended to do. A barrel. A gunpowder chamber to discharge a projectile. What was the safest method to cause the projectile to fire? She certainly did not want a cannon to erupt in her friends’ faces. An even more important issue to consider would be the projectile itself. Some matter of stone, perhaps?

Regardless, she needed an abundance of saltpeter, charcoal, and sulfur. And she had examined her stores earlier in the morning and had found her supply of saltpeter to be quite low. She was confident Goku or another member of his band would escort her to find the materials if she could convince them it was a worthwhile venture.

_Ding!_

“Come in,” Bulma responded absentmindedly to the bell. It was often difficult for her to pry herself away from her workdesk, especially in moments when she was becoming frustrated at an idea that could not come to fruition. Chi-Chi had fallen in the habit of leaving Bulma with bread to break her fast with in the morning, or Bulma would forget to eat.

“Bulma? It’s Krillin.” She heard his nervous voice and could imagine him standing in the doorway to her shop, idling, concerned Bulma may cause an explosion. Or, worse yet – _yell at him._

“At my worktable. Come in here.”

Krillin’s bald head poked around the corner warily. Chi-Chi had no hesitation strolling through Bulma’s shop and living quarters. Krillin was more reluctant to do so. When Krillin and Bulma had become closer and had spoken to each other about their pasts, Krillin admitted he was an orphan who had been raised in a monastery. The monks were quite cruel to him and he had fled to Mt. Paozu, where Roshi had informally adopted him and trained him to be a warrior. He was not the natural swordsman that Goku or Raditz were, but he was kindhearted and tenacious. “Chi-Chi asked me to bring you some bread.”

“Leave it.” She pointed at the other end of her worktable where it would not interfere with her work. “I want you to take a look at something.”

Krillin curiously approached her, leaving her breakfast where she had instructed him to do so. He peered over her shoulder and whistled. “What is this, Bulma?”

“I’m designing a handcannon. The further you can stay away from the demons you kill, the safer you’ll be.” She pointed at the barrel. “It’s held here. Ideally, the weight will be under ten pounds. Simple enough to carry.” Her finger traced along to the gunpowder chamber. “And here is where the chamber is. The gunpowder will cause a reaction to fire a projectile. I’m still determining what that could be. Perhaps a rock?” Bulma gestured to her stores of chemicals and minerals. “I need more gunpowder to experiment. I need to perfect this. I’m confident I can design this and make your patrols safer and more sufficient. However, I need saltpeter, charcoal, and sulfur, and I’m running quite low on saltpeter. Would you be willing to accompany me to find some more? It should be no more than a day’s journey."

The short man blinked nervously. Suddenly, Krillin became fascinated with a scuffmark on Bulma’s tiled floor. “It’s impressive.”

Bulma was no fool. “What’s the issue? What are you not telling me?” She gripped her pen in frustration and slammed it on the worktable. Krillin cringed at the sudden loud noise. “We need to become more inventive before we’re overrun.”

Krillin steepled his fingers together, obviously uneasy. “Might I suggest we speak to Chi-Chi about your idea? I would like her agreement before we leave.”

Bulma should have known Krillin would cower at the mere thought of the formidable Chi-Chi. She took her bread and began stuffing it into her mouth. Bulma could tell it had been freshly baked. It was warm, but not unpleasantly hot, and was so soft she barely needed to chew. The most famous chefs with the finest equipment lived in Weston, and none of them had Chi-Chi’s culinary talent. “Fine.”

*************

“No.”

“But… what?” Bulma sputtered. “You haven’t even looked at the design!”

“I can’t afford for Krillin to leave. The village would be far too vulnerable.” Somehow, Chi-Chi had the focus to mix together sweet dough while arguing with her, which was infuriating. Chi-Chi was the only baker in the small village, but she was all that they needed. Customers visited her establishment daily. In many towns and cities, breads and pastries were luxuries afforded only by the rich, but Chi-Chi did not agree with such ridiculousness. She had grown close to the villagers, forming personal relationships with many. Chi-Chi knew their names. She knew who was secretly in love with whom. She knew what their children dreamed of becoming when they were adults. Chi-Chi was responsible for leading the defense of the village and she exceled in her role. Goku enjoyed patrolling and actively searching for combat, a facet to his personality Chi-Chi had grown accustomed to – and Bulma was smarter than to ask how Chi-Chi truly felt about this. Regardless of his wife’s emotions, it was necessary for someone to fill his role. And Goku was the most talented fighter in the village. Chi-Chi was motivated by the connections she had formed with people. Bulma truly believed Chi-Chi would do anything necessary to defend her home.

Except, apparently, give Krillin permission to escort Bulma to gather saltpeter.

“But if I create this successfully, the village will be much _less_ vulnerable,” Bulma argued. She glanced at Krillin and saw that he had carefully removed himself from the conversation and was practically hiding on the other side of the bakery, content to observe the argument instead of participate. He was practically hidden in Raditz’s much larger shadow. Chi Chi’s brother-in-law leaned against the wall, grinning like a fool enjoying a performance. Which seemed to be an accurate assessment of the situation.

“Bulma, it’s just not feasible right now.” Chi-Chi added even more cream and butter to the dough. Her sweet rolls were sinfully delicious. Even though Bulma was irritated with her, she still wanted her desserts. Perhaps she enchanted them with witchcraft. “It’s much too dangerous.”

“It’s no more dangerous than what we’re experiencing now.” Bulma frantically waved the schematic parchment. “If you take a look at this and still give me a good reason not to pursue this, you’ll never hear me speak of this again.”

Raditz snorted so loudly Bulma could hear him from across the bakery. “I sincerely doubt that.”

“Quiet!” Bulma snapped. She handed the parchment out to Chi-Chi, blinking her blue eyes. “Please, Chi?”

Chi-Chi sighed in exasperation. “Fine.” She took a handcloth and cleaned the dough from her nimble fingers, and with the great patience of a mother looking at a ridiculous drawing colored by her child, she took the parchment from Bulma. To her credit, she did seem to study and consider the drawing. “Bulma… I am going to try and say this as diplomatically as I can.” Chi-Chi took a deep breath and returned the parchment to Bulma. “I’m a bit concerned about your safety.”

“What about my safety? I can assure you, safety is of the utmost importance to me.”

“Bulma, you caught your hair on fire recently,” Raditz unhelpfully mentioned.

Bulma whirled her head around to glare at him. “Only once. Chi-Chi cut my hair so now it won’t happen again. There was a problem and we found a solution.” Bulma folded her schematic carefully in her hands and placed it in her pocket.

“Eh, Bulma… you set off a firework prematurely last month and it almost exploded in your face.” Even Krillin, sheepish, sweet Krillin, was speaking out against her.

“I moved away in time!” Bulma put her hands on her hips and surveyed the room. Chi-Chi’s hands were resting on the counter. Her expression read: _No. This is final. Now get out so I can bake these sweet rolls._ Raditz looked very amused at the situation. And, once again, Krillin was staring at the floor. “Fine. I’ll make this safer. I’ll devise a way to experiment with gunpowder more securely. And then we’ll revisit this.”

“And you must speak about it with Goku.” Chi-Chi pointed a finger at Bulma, scolding her. “This is going to affect him more than me. You have to discuss this with him.”

“Fine!” Bulma took a biscuit off of Chi-Chi’s counter, defiantly taking a large bite from it. “And I’m eating this biscuit!”

Chi-Chi rolled her eyes and began kneading her sweet roll dough, obviously considering the conversation and the matter closed.

“Raditz, come with me back to my home,” Bulma commanded.

“I did nothing—” he began to protest.

“I have something for your parents. And apparently everyone here will be thankful to know that it’s not combustible.”

Out of the corner of her eyes, Bulma saw Chi-Chi stick her tongue out at her.

*************

“See? You can roll it.” Bulma took the barrow by the handles and wheeled it slowly across her meager yard. “Much easier for your father. He’ll no longer need to carry his tools and equipment. He can simply wheel everything he needs.”

“I… this is actually very useful.” Raditz very rarely approved of Bulma’s work and inventions. Goku seemed fascinated by her creations and enjoyed listening to Bulma explain how they worked. His brother merely seemed irritated. “My father will be very grateful.”

“Of course it’s useful!” Bulma angrily dropped the handles to the ground. “Now wheel this to your home!”

Raditz grumbled to himself as he bent to take the handles. “This is quite easy to maneuver. I’m impressed.”

“So glad to meet your expectations.” Bulma followed Raditz down the humble dirt road of Mt. Paozu. There was only one road in Mt. Paozu. The village’s meager businesses and most of the homes were joined together by one muddy avenue, traveled on by villagers, horses, and wagons alike. The Sons’ wheat farm was on the outskirts of the Mt. Paozu, but it was vital for the survival of the town. It was not the only wheat farm in the area but it was the most productive. Goku and Raditz’s parents were growing older, and watching their father carry farming supplies to and fro on their large parcel of land tugged at her heart. Bardock was a gruff old man. His wife, Gine, was much more sociable. She had told Bulma bits of their past. The Son family had experienced such difficulty and loss that Bulma often thought of ways to ease their burdens.

Raditz wheeled the barrow up to the front of the Son’s home. “Father! Come see! Lady Bulma crafted something extraordinary!” Under his breath, Raditz muttered: “For once.”

Bulma resisted the urge to kick the barrow out from under him and watch him sprawl in mud.

The door to the Son home opened, and instead of the imposing figure of Bardock, Bulma was greeted with the smaller, friendlier face of Gine. “Oh, hello Bulma! What do you have for us today?”

Raditz demonstrated the simplicity of the invention. Gine’s expression was unreadable, but when she wheeled it herself, she smiled. “Oh, Bulma. This is marvelous. Bardock will be so thankful.”

“I’m glad. Is he working in the fields? Perhaps I can take it to him.”

Gine nodded. “He is. And that’s what Raditz is for.” Raditz’s mother clasped his shoulder. “Go find your father.”

“Very well.” Raditz wheeled away slowly and sadly, disappearing in the ocean wheat fields that surrounded his family’s home.

“I cannot thank you enough, Bulma. Please, let me pay you something.”

Bulma waved her hand. “I won’t accept it. I didn’t create this for the money.”

A smile quirked at the older woman’s lips. “You’re so wonderfully strange.”

Bulma was familiar enough with Gine and her personality to understand that _wonderfully strange_ should be interpreted as a compliment. “Thank you.”

*************

As Bulma trudged to her home, her thoughts continually wandered to the Sons. She had heard idle comments from Goku’s friends about his childhood and his family’s abrupt departure from Saiya, a neighboring land that had been conquered many years ago by Frieza. When Bulma felt secure enough in her relationship with Chi-Chi she had asked her friend how her husband’s family had come to be in Mt. Paozu. Chi-Chi had hesitated but decided to tell the story. It was an unpleasant one. Bardock had been a guard to the Saiyan royal family, a decorated officer who was loyal and protective. When Frieza and his forces attacked, Bardock was wounded in battle and left for dead. Somehow, Gine had been able to rescue her husband, and the Son family fled their homeland. It was a mark on Bardock’s honor that he was not killed in combat, and that he had to be smuggled from the country, half-dead.

Raditz was old enough to remember his homeland and was fiercely proud of his culture, although Bulma did wonder how much he was able to remember and how much was projection. Goku was only an infant and Bulma doubted that Saiya or his heritage meant anything to him. She could not remember him saying a word about Saiya. To him, his only home was Mt. Paozu. Chi-Chi had mentioned Goku’s childhood name was ‘Kakarot,’ a noticeably Saiyan name – and when he began to train under Roshi, he began to refer to himself as Goku.

To his family, of course, he was still Kakarot.

Mt. Paozu was where the Son family had stumbled in their flight from Saiya. The village was not terribly far from the former Saiyan border, and with Bardock barely clinging to life, Gine was desperate for shelter for her husband and two young children. Mt. Paozu had taken them in and was where Bardock had been nursed to back to health, and the family had simply never left.

Bulma knew little of the Saiyan people. She knew they were a militaristic culture. Frieza had often used them as footsoldiers. Bulma did not know why Frieza had decided to annihilate them, but he had been thorough. Very few Saiyans were able to flee the destruction. And the royal family was brutally murdered.

Bulma shivered. Although her parents were powerful dignitaries in Weston and were occasionally forced to meet with Frieza, they never had a kind word to say about him. And if the rumors were true (and Bulma believed that they were), he was a heartless monster.

*************

_Ding!_

“A moment, please.” Bulma was behind her shop’s counter, sitting in a very un-ladylike way as she attempted to organize a multitude of gears she had crafted for an abandoned project. She stood to her feet and dusted off her dress, expecting to see a friend.

But she had never seen this man before.

He leaned against the door. His arms were crossed, his dark eyes thoughtful. Bulma had the impression he was studying her in the way she would study one of her inventions. And she could not help but notice the thin sword that hung at his side. But she reminded herself to be cordial. After all, less than a year ago, she had been a stranger to this village that no one had known. She would be courteous to this stranger. She forced a smile to her face. “May I help you, sir?”

He inclined his head. “Perhaps.” As he stepped closer to her, she could see his features clearer. The man was short but muscular. Handsome, she supposed. His clothes were bedraggled and dirty. Bulma guessed he lived a life as a traveler. He smiled at her but the warmth of his face did not reach his cold eyes. “Are you Lady Bulma Briefs? The famed inventor?” His voice was low, gravelly.

“I do not consider myself famous. But yes. I am Lady Bulma Briefs.” She nodded politely at him.

He placed his gloved hands on her counter. Bulma had to remind herself not take a step away from him. It would have been terribly rude even though she was a bit apprehensive. “I hear you create things.”

“I do. Here, let me show you…”

“I’m not interested in ordinary sundries," he interrupted.

Bulma blinked. “Pardon me?”

He traced his glove along her counter, his finger following a seam of wood. His eyes gazed into hers, daring Bulma to look away and break contact. This was a game and Bulma increasingly felt like his prey. His movements were deliberate to unsettle her and though she understood what he was doing to manipulate her, it did not help quell her unease. “You’re an alchemist.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “I don’t know what you’re speaking about, sir.”

“Don’t insult us both by dishonesty. It doesn’t become you. I know what you are.” His finger continued to idly trace her counter.

Bulma could feel her chest constrict with anxiety, her heart beating faster. “And why would you be interested in the services of an alchemist?”

“What would you say if I asked you your opinion about the Elixir of Life?”

Bulma breathed a sigh of relief. He was nothing but a poor fool interested in a legend with no basis in scientific reality. _So worked up over so very little._ “I would say it is an interesting tale. I’ve seen nothing in my research to confirm the possibility it could exist.”

“Ah. So if I gave you such a challenge, you would be uninterested in pursuing it.” He smirked. “Interesting. I suppose the rumors I’ve heard of your brilliance and persistence may not be true.”

“I rise to meet any challenge that’s feasible,” Bulma spat. “Anything that I believe has the potential to be successful. The Elixir of Life is fiction. Nothing more.” Bulma cared little for his attitude and less for the hilt of the sword he had begun to absentmindedly touch. “If you’re quite finished insulting me, I’d like for you to leave.”

“Oh, I would never mean to insult the brilliant Bulma Briefs.” He took a step away from the counter and gave her a mocking bow. “Just disappointed in your lack of… curiosity.”

When he had left her store, Bulma threw a gear at the door in anger, and hoped she would never see the man again. It was not until after he left that she realized she didn’t even know his name.

*************

Chi-Chi’s birthday was in three weeks, and, to Bulma’s complete unsurprise, Goku had told Bulma he needed her guidance. And to ensure Chi-Chi did not receive a half-burnt candle, an assortment of cookies that tasted akin to dirt, or any other terrible gift Goku could procure, Bulma had agreed to lend her assistance.

When Chi-Chi had agreed to cut Bulma’s hair so the Dreaded Hair Accident could never occur again, Bulma had noticed her friend was fascinated with her bedroom mirror. It was the perfect gift. When she had suggested it to Goku, he was ecstatic. Glass was incredibly expensive and terribly uncommon. A mirror for Chi-Chi would be a lovely surprise.

Bulma had measured out a piece of glass that would be sizeable enough for Chi-Chi, and would also fit with the remaining foil she had left for it to adhere to. She could create the frame another day. The most pressing creation was the mirror itself. Bulma lay a large handcloth over her worktable and gently placed a sheet of tin foil. The most difficult step was adding the mercury, and the first time Bulma had attempted this, it was a disaster. Bulma did not want to waste mercury. It was difficult to obtain in the village. Carefully and slowly, she spread mercury over the foil with a brush. Taking the glass, she delicately placed it over the mercury. To her relief, nothing seemed out of place.

Bulma exhaled a breath she did not realize she had been holding. “Bulma Briefs, you are spectacular.”

A gloved hand covered her mouth. An arm gripped her body. Her nose was suffocated by the sudden, strong smell of his leather. And she could not move. _He's going to kill me._

Her immediate response was to scream, and then her senses realized how ridiculous that would be. She struggled, but her assailant’s grip was firm. A mouth came close to her ears to speak to her, almost imperceptibly quiet. “I am willing to give you a chance. If I move my hand, you will be silent. If you scream, I’ll kill you. Is that understood?”

Bulma nodded. She _knew_ that voice. That gravelly, dangerous voice.

He removed his hand from her mouth and stepped away from her. Bulma immediately moved away, backing herself to the worktable. Bulma gripped the edge of the table. His face was still frustratingly smug. “Why in the hells are you here? I demand you tell me!"

He crossed his arms and looked at her, clearly amused. “I don’t believe you’re in the position to demand anything, Lady Bulma. But you’re going to help me create the Elixir of Life. And I'm going to become immortal.”  
  
“What makes you think I would ever want to help you?”

The man cocked his head at her. “Because if you don’t, I’ll murder everyone in this village. I’ll murder your family. And, finally, I’ll murder you.”

Bulma shook her head. “I don’t believe you. I don’t believe you’re strong enough to kill my friends. I don’t believe you can kill all of my parents’ guards.”

“And is that a theory you’re willing to test?”

Bulma swallowed. He was clearly dangerous and armed. He may not indeed be able to kill _everyone_ but he would certainly be able to kill _someone_. “No.”

“So glad to have your cooperation, Lady Bulma.”

“And how do you propose we create the Elixir of Life where everyone else has failed?”

“Because I know the prima materia. I know the first ingredient needed. And tomorrow, we’re going to fetch it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story took quite a bit of research and I want to credit all of the amazing sources I used for this chapter.
> 
> The Alchemy Website was invaluable for this chapter and this entire story, and I quoted Ripley's Gates from their website: https://www.alchemywebsite.com/index.html
> 
> The chemistry of gunpowder: https://www.compoundchem.com/2014/07/02/the-chemistry-of-gunpowder/
> 
> The history of wheelbarrows: https://interestingengineering.com/18-inventions-of-the-middle-ages-that-changed-the-world
> 
> The creation of handcannons: https://military.wikia.org/wiki/Hand_cannon
> 
> For information about baking: https://www.thefinertimes.com/bakers-in-the-middle-ages & https://www.historyextra.com/period/medieval/a-brief-history-of-baking/


	3. Separation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma's mysterious captor takes her into the deep woods on the outskirts of Mt. Paozu to locate the first ingredient for the Elixir of Life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support from all of you. Writing an AU has been a challenge but a fun one. (So much world building. So many things to establish.) I'm on Twitter - follow me @AvieAwesome. The amazing artwork was created by @snowprince999. And @Riptide1414 was my amazing beta reader. Enjoy!

[ ](https://ibb.co/n6Hg250)

_Thus you must oftentimes make Separation,_   
_Dividing your waters into two parts,_   
_So that the subtle from the gross you take,_   
_Till the earth remain below in colour blue,_   
_That earth is fixed to abide all woe,_   
_The other part is spiritual and flying,_   
_But you must turn them all into one thing._

_\-- Ripley's Third Gate_

Bulma’s sleep was interrupted by a pounding on her bedroom door and a rough voice demanding for her to awaken. “Woman! Ready yourself.” Her heart leapt into her throat as she grabbed at her bedsheets, instinctively covering her head.

The events of the previous evening came rushing back to her. The hand over her mouth. The arm around her body, keeping her pressed against him, unable to break free or move. The fear that she felt. Bulma had never encountered a dilemma that her brilliance could not solve. She was wholly unprepared for the bleak helplessness she experienced and the intense fear that had caused her heart to race. Bulma pushed the bedsheets down and glanced out her window. It was so very early. She did not believe in rising before the sun did but her captor apparently did not feel the same. Bulma yawned loudly and threw her bedsheets off.

“Woman! Are you alive?” His gravelly, irritating growl seeped through her bedroom door. “Should I drag you out?”

Bulma was half-asleep and fully afraid, but she was not a woman to cross so early in the morning. “Excuse me! I sleep in the nude, sir. Would you prefer that I come out now or would you like me to be fully clothed?” This was, of course, a lie. Bulma was dressed in her simple nightshirt which made her appear rather matronly. She even wore a nightcap to keep her ears warm.

“Tch. Vulgar woman.”

“May I at least know where you’re taking me on this kidnapping excursion?” Bulma demanded.

“Into the woods.”

“What?” Bulma squeaked. “The woods outside of Mt. Paozu?”

“Yes.”

“But… there are monsters in the woods!” she protested.

“Indeed. And pack food. We will be spending the night.” She could hear him move away from her bedroom door, an infuriating presence moving about her home, invading her personal space.

She was terribly afraid.

Bulma did not enjoy the outdoors. The heat made her sweaty and miserable. The cold made her shiver and whine. Even as a child she had much preferred to stay inside her parents’ lavish estate and read or tinker with tools than stroll the gardens or play sports. Consequently, she owned absolutely no clothes that would be appropriate for a night spent in the woods. She shoved aside silk dress after silk dress in her wardrobe. Yes, Bulma had abandoned her previous life, but she had kept her silken dresses and her luxuries. Why? Because she was beautiful and vain. Eventually, she settled on a green dress, simply because the color was flattering and she wanted to leave a fashionable corpse in the woods for terrible creatures to devour.

She grimaced at her leather slippers. She owned little else. Although she was hardly an outdoorswoman, she felt slippers were horribly inappropriate footwear to go tromping over dirt roads, tree roots and rocks. Alas.

Bulma surveyed her bedroom. She feared she may not see it again. The loving portrait of her with her parents. Her impressive collection of books – she had read them and re-read them so many times she several titles memorized. The mirror on the wall that Chi-Chi had used when she hacked off Bulma’s singed hair, styling her hair with her dexterous finger and loving patience. This room had been her sanctuary when she had first arrived to Mt. Paozu. She had spent many lonely days hunched over her writing desk, creating and learning. If she did not return she worried her friends would assume she had abandoned them to travel to Weston and leave them, and this made her deeply sad.

Bulma opened her bedroom door and felt a stab of sorrow pierce her. She hoped beyond hope she would return to her humble home and her friends.

When she saw him, her heart clenched in fear. He was a short man but strong. His muscles shown through his tight leather shirt and she steadfastly refused to admire them. The man displayed a necklace proudly around his neck, but Bulma had did not know the significance of the symbol he wore, and she knew he would not explain if she inquired. Her captor’s expression was indifferent. His arms were crossed as he leaned against the wall of her shop, absolutely unconcerned with her panicked expression. He regarded her as if she were a lower life-form, hysterical and needlessly dramatic. “We cannot go into the woods! You know the creatures will tear us apart! Are you trying to get both of us killed?”

He eyed her dress and simple shoes skeptically. “Is that truly what you are wearing? That’s hardly practical.”

“Oh, I apologize. I simply don’t have a fashionable outfit for being kidnapped and dragged through the forest. So I suppose I must settle on this.” Bulma smoothed her dress. She was suddenly quite self-conscious of her appearance. A brilliant scientist she may be, but this apparently did not translate well into woodland excursions. And Bulma did not appreciate being made to feel like a fool. “Again, I must ask, are you trying to have me killed?”

“I am more than enough for any creature in the woods. You needn’t be concerned.” His smirk was entirely arrogant and infuriating.

Bulma regarded him skeptically. He handled himself confidently but she had been in the presence of enough priggish noblemen who wore a sword at their side they had never been taught to wield to be suspicious. “The only people in this village who are strong enough to defeat the creatures single-handedly are Goku and Raditz. And it’s certainly not simple for them.”

“Well, I’m neither Goku or Raditz,” he snarled. “Your village’s pathetic inability to defend itself is of no consequence.”

“You are incredibly rude!” Bulma snapped. “And why is it necessary for me to accompany you on this mission? If you’re so capable of defending yourself, why is my presence so vital to you?”

“I am aware of your friendships with the others here. Do you take me for a naive fool? There is nothing preventing you from telling them everything the moment I leave.”

She could not deny that he spoke the truth. “Allow me to pack some refreshments for myself.” Out of customary politeness, Bulma caught herself asking if he had provisions for himself. Then she realized how little she cared. Bulma only owned a single small knapsack, barely large enough to carry day-old bread from Chi-Chi and several apples. She noticed he raised an eyebrow at the food she was packing, obviously judging her ability to survive in the wilderness on her meager rations in addition to her choice of garments. No matter. Bulma had been judged by many men in her life and was quite accustomed to such skepticism. She had a very small canteen she placed in her pack. “I am ready, Your Highness.”

His mouth quirked in an amused smile. “As you say.”

*************

Bulma had never entered the woods.

She had cautiously observed them from a distance. Her friends had continually warned of the dangers of King Piccolo’s creatures and she was no warrior. She had nothing to gain by risking her life in the dense trees and shadows surrounding Mt. Paozu. And so she hesitated to follow him. Bulma had endured considerable fear recently and her chest ached with anxiety.

“Why do you balk so?” he questioned. She had not noticed his black eyes upon her, curious. Perhaps he was realizing even the intimidating Lady Bulma Briefs could experience dread.

“I have never entered the woods before.”

When Bulma had left her parents’ estate and begun her journey to Mt. Paozu, each step seemed difficult and the journey impossibly long. She had felt a spoiled fool. She was unsure of herself, unconvinced she was making the correct decision. Abandoning her comfortable life for the unknown seemed absurd. She had told herself: _One step at a time._

“You are wasting daylight. Come. Now.”

“Do not hurry me!” she scolded.

Bulma slipped one slippered shoe under the canopy of the trees and took a step. _One step at a time._ And she took another step. And then another. And she repeated to herself: _One step at a time._

*************

The silence between them was excruciating.

Bulma was comfortable with silence between her and her loved ones. She had spent many quiet hours with her father while they experimented and researched. She enjoyed tranquility in meditation with Krillin and Tien, and calm in the fields with Chi-Chi as they relaxed and broke their fast surrounded by flowers on warm spring mornings. But this stillness was as harsh as her jailer’s personality. Bulma also realized that when she was nervous, she babbled. It allowed her overthinking brain to find a moment of peace in friendly conversation. Instead, she focused on every noise in the woods that she heard. Was the breaking branch a creature about to leap upon her and tear out her throat? Was the birdcall a warning of a demon watching them?

“I just realized you haven’t told me your name.”

“Why should I?” he growled in response. With his unceasing grumbling, terrible manners, and overly confident swagger, Bulma was beginning to suspect her captor was part-beast. An ape, perhaps?

“I may need your assistance! How else would I have your attention? What if I’m in mortal danger and am in need of your protection quickly?”

“I would assume you acted rashly in a senseless attempt to escape from me and that you deserve the mortal danger that you have found yourself to be in.”

“You are an ass!” Bulma halted in her tracks, hands on her hips. “I refuse to take another step until you tell me your name.”

He seemed to realize that she was no longer following him, but he refused to turn and acknowledge her. “Stay behind if you will. It would only take a few minutes for a creature to locate you and tear you apart.”

“Perhaps it would. And then any chance of obtaining the Elixir would be torn apart as well. What a quandary for you.”

Her imprisoner finally decided to face her, his expression so very smug and pompous that it made her instinctively cringe. “Would you like to know my name? I shall give it to you. Call me Shadow, for I am the darkness that lurks behind my enemies to destroy them without mercy.”

Bulma immediately clapped a hand to her mouth, disguising her smirk. “Shadow?” She could feel laughter threatening to erupt and clamped her lips together. The self-important attitude. The arrogant grin on his face. Oh, it was too much. Bulma giggled. And the giggling evolved to cackling. And then her cackles became a full-bellied laugh that almost caused her to double over. Wiping tears from the corners of her eyes, she shook her head. “Oh, I apologize, but I absolutely cannot do that.”

“I will not be mocked in this way! Did I say something to amuse you, Woman?” Bulma was unsure from the distance she was, but she could have sworn he was blushing from humiliation.

“Oh, yes. Thank you. That really was quite amusing.” She tapped a finger to her cheek, considering the small, angry man. “This is exciting. I feel as if I’m naming the new family pet.” She studied him carefully. He obviously believed himself to be nobility, coupled with the rotten attitude… and then, _inspiration_. “I believe I shall call you… Lord Badman.”

Bulma wished a portrait painter could capture his outrage for her to treasure. “You… you will do no such thing! How dare you speak to me this way!”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “The problem could be solved simply, but you’ve decided to conceal your identity from me. Ah, well.”

Lord Badman sputtered in anger. Bulma could decipher none of his words, but she imagined they were unlikely to be compliments. “Woman! Now! Walk!”

“As you say, Lord Badman.” As she approached him, she bowed mockingly, which caused him to sputter further. She could now hear his words and could confirm that they were not, in fact, compliments. But oh. It was worth it.

*************

“I require rest.” Her feet were sore. Her back ached from carrying her knapsack. They had been trudging through the deep woods for hours and he had not told her if they were close to their destination.

“No. Keep moving.”

“Unless you intend to carry me, I require rest.”

Lord Badman scowled, but apparently decided to allow her a moment to collect herself. He rested against a tree, arms crossed, obviously troubled by her need to pause. “You’re behaving like a brat who has never been more than ten feet outside of her home.”

“And how should I be expected to behave? I should remind you that I am your hostage!” In frustration, Bulma threw her small pack to the ground. She realized a moment too late the food she had carefully packed would likely be ruined by her tantrum.

“You have continually reminded me of that since we left your home! I’m surprised half the demons in this forest haven't descended upon us due to your shrieking!” He grimaced as if her very face disgusted him. “I’m beginning to believe the rumors of your brilliance were greatly exaggerated.”

 _Oh, that does it, sir._ “You will not insult me. If you are in need of my intelligence then I demand your respect. I may not have your martial talents but I warn you not to underestimate me.” Her common sense warned her she was being a fool. But foolishness can lead to confidence and the stunned expression on his face emboldened her. Bulma jabbed a finger into his chest, her soft finger running over dark rough leather. “I can brew a poison that would cause to linger in excruciating pain before finally claiming your life. Or, if you prefer, I could throw combustible liquid at your infuriatingly handsome face and set it on fire.” A final chest poke for good measure. “You will treat me with dignity.”

Lord Badman had apparently never been scolded. Awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he at least had the courtesy to look embarrassed by his behavior. He batted her finger away, crossing his arms and scowling. As per usual. Something crossed his dark eyes when he regarded her. Respect, perhaps? Bulma was no helpless damsel. Perhaps he was beginning to understand this. “Very well.”

Bulma nodded. “You desire the Elixir. I desire to not be murdered. Once this business is concluded, we will never see each other again. But until that moment, you will treat me with courtesy.”

“As you would have it.” A grudging agreement, but an agreement nonetheless. “And I expect the same treatment, Woman.” His tone was a warning she no longer cared to heed.

Bulma dusted off her poor pack and replaced it on her shoulders. She internally winced as she heard bruised apples colliding with smashed bread. “I’m glad that we’ve come to an understanding, Lord Badman. Lead the way.”

*************

He halted so suddenly Bulma almost collided with him. “Well, pardon me! Is something the matter?”

“Quiet,” he ordered.

Bulma listened closely. “I hear nothing.”

“Correct.”

And she understood his meaning. The woods were still. No birds chirped, no squirrels chattered. Uneasiness grew in the pit of her stomach. Instinctively, she backed away from Lord Badman and pressed herself against a large tree as if it could somehow protect her. The rough bark pressed into her silks. She knew something was amiss and the forest could sense it as well.

And Bulma screamed.

She had asked Goku to describe King Piccolo’s creatures to her once. _“Their skin is green in hue, scaly and lizard-like._ _Some are winged. It does not seem to matter how many we kill… King Piccolo simply creates more. They are merciless and hate humankind. They may not appear intelligent but do not allow their appearance to deceive you. They are cunning. And Bulma, if you ever see one, you must run.”_

Bulma had no doubt that the demon in front of her was a servant of King Piccolo. Unfortunately, fleeing was not an option. She closed her eyes as the creature ran towards her, bracing herself for the killing blow.

But it never came.

She opened her eyes cautiously and saw that Lord Badman had slammed his body into the creature’s, knocking it to its haunches. The creature stood and eyed Lord Badman curiously. “Ah. How interesting. A warrior who is at the very least competent.”

Lord Badman held his sword in his hand, and unsurprisingly, smirked at the creature with contempt. Bulma was hardly a blacksmith but even she could see he carried a well-crafted blade. Beautiful and savage, she was unsure how an impoverished traveler would have come upon such a sword unless he had stolen it.

“I am more than competent, creature. I’ve killed many of your kind.”

The demon nodded. “King Piccolo is aware that a warrior is murdering his children. Savagely tearing them apart. May I assume that you are the culprit?”

“None other.”

“Then allow me to introduce myself. I am Tambourine, child of King Piccolo.” The creature stretched its wings and Bulma could see how large it truly was. “May I know the name of my opponent?”

“You may not.”

“Then let us battle.”

“I tire of wordy opponents.” Lord Badman held his blade to the creature’s face. “Let us begin.”

Tambourine snarled and leaped toward Lord Badman’s face. The creature moved with unnatural speed. Bulma expected Badman to dodge the attack – instead, he rushed toward Tambourine, blade extended. Tambourine glided above Badman’s sword, landing lightly on his feet. Badman cursed. “Quit dodging me and fight!” he roared. Badman pulled a dagger from his boot that Bulma had no idea was even there, which caused her to wonder how many other weapons he kept hidden on his person. He ran towards Tambourine, throwing his dagger with expert precision. Bulma was sure it would strike the creature and embed itself into its scales, but Bulma was horrified to see the demon bat the dagger out of the air. Tambourine moved so quickly Bulma could not even see his hand move, but she could clearly see the dagger clatter to the forest floor, useless.

Badman looked momentarily taken aback, an understandable reaction. “You must be the strongest of his children.”

Tambourine shrugged. “Or perhaps you’re just that weak.”

Badman snarled in anger and ran towards his opponent. And then Tambourine opened his mouth, and Bulma was horrified to see a large purple tongue shoot out of his mouth. It wrapped around Badman’s body, a disgusting snare that would not let him move. Badman’s sword fell to the ground as he collapsed.

Bulma knew she had to act.

Tambourine approached Badman slowly, obviously relishing his imminent victory. Badman struggled in vain to free himself. Bulma eyed the dagger that had fallen into the grass. She needed to gamble. The creature seemed distracted, content to believe she would simply cower until it was her turn to be killed. Bulma Briefs was not one to cower. Cautiously, she reached for the dagger. Tambourine seemingly showed no reaction to her movements. She tightly gripped the weapon in her hand. If she did not stab Tambourine now, Badman would certainly be killed. And while this would not be the worst thing to occur, Bulma had no doubt that Tambourine would then kill her. She took a deep breath to steady herself. As quietly as she could, she crept behind the creature. With a strength she knew came from adrenaline and terror, she plunged the dagger deeply into Tambourine’s back.

Tambourine’s scream was guttural and furious. His tongue immediately released Badman’s body as he wailed in pain, desperately trying to reach the blade dug into his skin. Badman stood to his feet, taking hold of his blade. He stabbed his sword into Tambourine’s chest, the handsome blade tainted by putrid demon blood. The creature collapsed to the ground and Bulma could see the light dimming in its eyes. Badman pulled out his sword and then his dagger. Eying the creature, seething, he gripped his dagger and began to stab. Stab. Stab. Bulma understood that the creature was a being of pure evil and would not have hesitated to kill her, but to hear his dying screams of agony was torture to her ears. When Tambourine had finally ceased making noise, Badman continued to stab. “Stop it!” she ordered. “He’s dead! It’s over!”

Her cries seemed to pull him out of his bloodthirst. Tambourine was shredded. A disgusting pile of blood and entrails. Bulma had eaten very little of her rations, but what she had eaten, she puked. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She had never encountered such violence. Apparently this was quite common to her captor who appeared to be completely unfazed. “Come,” he told her. “There is a river a short walk from here.”

Bulma nodded. Dazed, careful not to look at the creature’s mutilated corpse, she followed Badman.

*************

“You’ve been here before,” she stated.

Badman had first cleaned his weapons, treating them with care and gentleness she was confident he had never shown to a living person. Then he removed his shirt which caused Bulma to blush furiously. She refused to look at him. Refused to be attracted to him despite his handsome face and athletic figure. She had seen how he enjoyed violence. There was no doubt in her mind that _he_ was the mysterious figure that had slashed the other creatures apart as well. The sooner they retrieved the mysterious Elixir component and returned to Mt. Paozu, the better. “Yes,” he responded.

“Are we close?”

“Yes.” He splashed his face and body with the cool water. Bulma had drank from the rushing waters before he had decided to wash off demon blood and it was perhaps the best water she had ever tasted. The small canteen in her pack was insufficient for the amount of hydration necessary for the walking Badman had expected of her. Bulma pointedly ignored how the water trailed down his muscled figure. Unsurprisingly, his body was covered in scars that he had accumulated over the years.

Bulma leaned back against the tree she sat under. “Are we going to sleep here? It’s quite comfortable.”

“Yes.”

 _Such a conversationalist._ Bulma folded her arms under her breasts, cursing herself for not bringing a blanket with her. It should have been such an obvious item to pack. She began to drift off into sleep despite the chill in the air. Her eyes fluttered open with a start as she felt something land in her lap. “Here, Woman.” Bulma was startled to see he had tossed her a blanket from his pack.

“Thank you,” she stated. She found that honestly meant it.

“Tch. I did not do it to be kind. I did it because I knew you would complain if you were cold.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter to me why you did it. Thank you.”

He said nothing.

“Will we be safe here?”

“I will stay awake.”

Bulma bit her lip, nervous to voice her fears. She had never camped outside overnight with a man. And he was a man she barely knew with a fondness for stabbing things.

“I know what you’re considering. No, I won’t hurt you. I will not touch you.”

She nodded. Bulma could not explain why, but she believed what he said. Adjusting herself and covering herself with the blanket, she fell asleep to the gentle rush of the river and the chirping of insects.


	4. Conjunction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma and Lord Badman gather the first alchemical ingredient for the Elixir of Life. Bulma learns Lord Badman's identity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I apologize for taking such a long time to update this one. Real life and SmutFest 2021 happened. Now I'll be back on a bi-weekly posting schedule. Follow me on Twitter (@AvieAwesome) for lots of Vegebul naughtiness. And thanks again to @Riptide1414 for being my beta reader.

_After the chapter of natural Separation,_   
_By which the elements of our Stone be dissevered,_   
_Here follows the chapter of secret Conjunction,_   
_Which Natures repugnant joins to perfect unity._   
_And so them knitteth that none from the other may flee,_   
_When they by fire shall be examined,_   
_They be together so surely conjugated._

_\-- Ripley's Fourth Gate_

When her eyes fluttered open the sky was dark. Bulma did not need to see her clock to know it was still the early, pre-dawn hours. For a moment she forgot where she was and her heart tightened in alarm. Then she glanced at the soft blanket curled around her body tightly in a vain attempt to comfort herself and remembered that she was currently a hostage that had narrowly escaped being butchered by a demon the previous day. A demon that she had been forced to stab.  
  
Though she was warm under the thick cloth, she shivered.  
  
Bulma rubbed the sleep from her eyes and yawned. There was positively nothing about this woodland excursion that she enjoyed. She held Lord Badman’s blanket in her hands and gently folded the fabric. He may possess the manners of an ogre but that did not mean she had to. Bulma stood to her aching feet and stretched, hoping that moving her body would lessen its creaky joints and her stiff back. Apparently trees did not make comfortable mattresses. She was certain she looked absolutely nightmarish.  
  
She saw that her captor had once again removed his shirt (a habit she both wanted him to continue and hoped that he would cease) to clean his body in the cool river water. After carefully placing Lord Badman’s blanket on his pack, Bulma joined him at the edge of the river, kneeling to splash water in her face. Though he had stayed awake through the night he did not appear half as exhausted as Bulma did. Her reflection pictured a haggard, tired young woman who desperately missed the comforts of her bed and not awakening until the sun had risen. Her hair resembled a neglected bird’s nest.  
  
Bulma refused to let her eyes roam over his muscular, athletic figure. His compact but intimidating frame. His cold but handsome face. Bulma mentally scolded herself. _You should not feel a modicum of physical attraction towards this man. He kidnapped you and threatened your life, for Kame’s sake._ She was being a fool. It would have been much simpler for her to be taken away by a grotesque gargoyle.  
  
Even half-nude Lord Badman wore his curious necklace, which only caused Bulma to be more and more inquisitive about this man and his past. He wore the jewelry brazenly with pride, a very odd choice for a man she was confident was a fugitive. Bulma was certain the deep recesses of her brain recognized the symbol displayed on the pendant but she was unable to place it. It was a word on the tip of her tongue that she could not find the knowledge to speak.  
  
“What is that symbol on your necklace?”  
  
“It is not your affair,” Lord Badman growled in response.  
  
“You have the pretension to display it proudly upon your person yet you decline to answer any questions? Of course you must know that would make a lady even more curious,” Bulma mocked. “I am considering adjusting your title to Lord Badman the Enigmatic.”  
  
He stood abruptly and gathered his pack, roughly shoving his carefully folded blanket into it. “We need to get moving.”  
  
Bulma stood and dusted off her beautiful, silken dress, currently decorated with soil and leaves. _The very essence of fashion._  
  
“Here.” His rough voice startled her from examining her disastrous presentation.  
  
“Hmm?” Lord Badman was handing her a belt, scabbard and dagger. If she was not mistaken, it was the very blade she has used to stab Tambourine. “Is this for me?”  
  
He nodded shortly. “Take it.”  
  
“Are you certain?” Surely he must suspect that she would eventually use his own dagger to try and murder him. He was no fool.  
  
Lord Badman gave her an arrogant, wry smile. “I have many more.”  
  
“Of that, I have no doubt.” Bulma took the weapon and the sheath from his hands and placed it around her slim body, buckling it tightly around her waist. She was no weapons expert but the small blade gave her a bit of confidence. “Why, Lord Badman... am I earning your respect?” she teased.  
  
“No,” the man spat back. “Yesterday was justification that you need to protect yourself.”  
  
“And how do you know that I won’t use this to slit your throat?” Bulma adjusted the belt. She was unaccustomed to wearing a weapon on her person and it sat upon her hips awkwardly.  
  
Lord Badman laughed. A short, barking laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. “We both understand what would happen if you attempted such foolishness. And if the Lady intends to spend tonight in the comforts of her own bed, she should begin to walk.”  
  
The Lady did intend to spend the night in the comforts of her own bed. She took her pack and slung it over her shoulders, attempting in vain to ignore her protesting feet as she trailed off Lord Badman deeper into the forest.

*************

Hands on her hips, Bulma frowned.  
  
They had arrived at what was their apparent destination: a tree. A beautiful, imposing tree, but nonetheless, a tree. The other trees in the forest stood apart from it as if they were keeping a respectful distance from it. But from all outwards appearances, it was merely a tree.  
  
Lord Badman studied her expression. “Disappointed, are you? What were you expecting?”  
  
“Oh, I’m not even sure. Something mystical and mysterious, I suppose. A cave?”

“A cave?” Lord Badman scoffed. “Why the hell were you expecting a cave?”

“Because it’s much more romantic and cryptic than a tree!” Bulma snapped in response.

“Whatever. Follow me.” Lord Badman approached the tree slowly. Although he had yet to show any respect towards Bulma, he certainly appreciated this tree. Bulma studied his face carefully – he was thoughtful. His eyes seemed distant and far away from the dismal forest. “It is as I remembered.”

“How old were you when you came here before?” Bulma asked quietly.

“A child. Four years old.”

Bulma tried to imagine Lord Badman as a child. She supposed he was much the same. Short and ill-tempered. “Who brought you here?”

A hesitation before he spoke. “My father.” Lord Badman put his gloved hand on the bark of the tree, running his fingers over its coarse surface. He gazed up into the leaves of the tree and Bulma noticed the tree bore fruit. But this was no fruit Bulma had seen before. It was golden-hued, and almost seemed to sparkle… which was even stranger considering they were deep in the forest where the sun could not reach.

“What manner of fruit is that?”

“Wait.” Lord Badman found a foothold and deftly began to climb the tree like an aggressive squirrel. He plucked a piece a fruit from the tree and held it down to her. “Taste it.”

Bulma cautiously took the fruit and stared at it suspiciously. “Is this poisoned?”

“Woman, if I wanted to kill you, you would be dead by now.”

She took a deep breath as if that would prevent poison from affecting her and bit into the fruit. The taste was an explosion in her mouth that she did not expect. Even though the bite she had taken was small, the fruit was almost overbearingly sweet and juicy. Lord Badman had plucked his own fruit and did not seem to be dead yet, and Bulma decided to continue eating. “It’s quite delicious, but I am unsure how this is involved with the prima materia. Or the Elixir of Life at all, really.”

“How do you feel?” His black eyes were inscrutable. Lord Badman seemed to be very interested in her reaction.

“I feel fine. I have felt fine today, or as well as a hostage can feel.” Bulma’s blue eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“I’m sure your pampered feet are sore and your body feels exhausted. I am asking you, how do you feel?”

Bulma considered his words. Her feet no longer ached. The crick in her back was gone. And the general tiredness she had experienced was dissipated. She felt… wonderful. “I… no longer hurt. I feel perfectly well.” She stared at the half-eaten fruit in her hand in wonder. “Is this because of the fruit? How can it possess these powers?”

“I am unsure. It is known as the Ensenji fruit. It cures physical ailments and illness.” He pointed at her. “And you will find a way to use it to cure death.”

Bulma could not rationally explain what she had experienced. It was true that she had felt achy and wooden when she awoke that morning. It could not be a coincidence that she ate the fruit and it had seemingly cured her ills. And as she studied Lord Badman, the scuffs and bruises he had received in his scuffle with Tambourine had completely disappeared. Science could not explain this, and Bulma was not comfortable with things she could not explain logically. In a world with Demon Kings and his evil minions, perhaps this was simply something new she had to adjust her mind to.

She removed her pack and dug through its contents, flinging now-moldy bread and lumpy apples to the ground. “Put more of the fruit in here,” she ordered, and to her surprise, he obeyed. Likely because he assumed he was going to reap the rewards from her difficult work and wanted the benefits as quickly as possible.

The Elixir of Life had always been dismissed as a rumor and Bulma had never been the sort of scientist to chase a rumor. But this made her consider the thin possibility that her assumption had been incorrect. _Is it possible? Truly?_ And while the potential excited her, the realization that she didn’t know even this man’s name made her hesitate. All she had seen was an overly violent, stubborn man who had threatened her life and the lives of her friends and family. She had no desire to create a potion that would grant him immortality. As she watched him gather fruit, Bulma thought to herself: _How do I extricate myself from this situation? Is there any way?_

*************

To Bulma’s utter surprise, the journey to the edge of the forest was uneventful. There were no demon attacks, no sightings of Lord Piccolo, and no more threats of imminent violence from Lord Badman. Unsurprisingly, he did not speak to her, which left Bulma alone with her thoughts. She could not, in good conscience, even attempt at giving this man immortality. At the very least, he was thoroughly nasty and savage; at worst, he would follow through on his murderous threats.

Bulma was unsure if anyone should be granted immortality, but she was certain this man should not be.

When Bulma could see the view of Mt. Paozu in the distance, her heart warmed to see her home. She wanted nothing more than to flee the outskirts of the woods and to lock the door to her humble house and cower. She wanted to tell her friends what had transpired and accept the protection they would offer her. But she knew she could not. To do so would risk their safety.

Bulma needed answers. Once they had emerged from the thick forest and were standing in the sun that Bulma had craved in the darkness of the woods, she halted, her small, slippered feet planted firmly in the ground. “I need the truth from you.”

Lord Badman gritted his teeth. “You are in no position to demand anything at all, Woman.”  
  
“You have not even revealed your identity to me. I cannot, in good conscience, help you without understanding who you are.” Bulma shook her head. “You may kill me, but then the secrets of the Elixir of Life will be lost to you forever. And I don’t think you’re willing to risk that.”

“Fine.” Lord Badman looked upon her, furious.

Bulma stood her ground despite her nerves. She refused to let this man intimidate her further. Her friends’ safety depended on her.

“My family met their end at the hands of Lord Frieza. They were tortured, killed, and dismembered. I was the only one who escaped that sick bastard. For years, I’ve wanted revenge. Revenge for my family, revenge for me people that he has abused, and revenge for the pride he’s taken from me. Do you know what it’s like, Woman? To be hounded by his men every step of your life for years? I’m not strong enough to kill him. He hides behind castle walls and scores of his men.” Lord Badman clenched his fists in anger. “I will have my revenge. I will have his head. I _will_ kill him.”

Bulma was unsure what she expected, but it was not that. _No wonder this man is so violent and so distrustful._ “I understand…”

“No,” he snapped. “You understand nothing.”

She took a deep breath to try communicating with this stubborn man again. “I was going to tell you that I understand your need for revenge. I have had no personal dealings with Frieza but my parents have told me what a despicable creature he is. And if he butchered my family the way he butchered yours, I imagine I would feel the same as you.”

Lord Badman stalked away a short distance, his arms crossed, and Bulma hoped that he was calming himself. At the very least his hands were no longer tight clenched fists. “Is your false empathy towards me supposed to be a comfort?”

“Not at all.” Bulma took a cautious step towards him. “You will come to understand there is nothing false about me. Believe me when I say that I have no issues speaking my mind. Now, I believe you still owe me your name.”

“Tch.” He turned his head so she could no longer see his face. “My name is Vegeta.” He said the word as if he were out of practice of doing so, as if it was a word he dared barely speak.

“Now, that is more of a proper name than Lord Badman.”

Vegeta suddenly looked away from her, studying the woods around them. “Quiet.”

Bulma clutched her dagger as if she would actually be competent enough with a blade to stop a creature if it attacked. “Is it another of Piccolo’s creatures?”

He shook his head slowly. Once again, his keen hearing could hear what she could not. “It seems to be your friends.” Vegeta regarded her warily. He may have told her his name, but he was far from considering her trustworthy. “Distract them. I will meet you at your home.”

Bulma nodded. And then he was gone, seemingly melting into the nearby shadows. For a moment, she almost considered that he had earned his ridiculous epithet of “Shadow.” Almost.

She could hear distant voices and the sound of heavy footsteps. Her friends were many things, but they were hardly stealthy. She put her pack and the fruit on the ground and began digging through it as if she were looking for something.

“Bulma?”

Bulma looked up to see Goku emerge from the forest. She attempted to appear excited and she hoped that she succeeded. “Good afternoon, Goku!”

Goku’s normally cheerful face was frowning. And his friends, notably Yamcha, did not appear pleased with her. “What are you doing here?”

For a moment, she wavered. She could tell him the truth: _“Oh, I was kidnapped by a violent fugitive who dragged me into the middle of the forest to pick a mystical fruit. By the way, I also stabbed a demon!”_ Or she could lie. She could lie to one of her dearest friends for a man she barely knew. And she chose to tell him a story. The woman who prided herself on honesty created a fiction. “Oh, just picking some fruit.” She opened her pack and helpfully showed him the contents.

“Bulma, it’s not safe,” Yamcha scolded. He was angry with her, possibly even angrier because he assumed she made a poor decision in retaliation for their argument at Kame House.

“I have a dagger with me…”

“Even so,” Goku interrupted. “Bulma, please return to the village.” He was disappointed in her reckless behavior, and it stung more than she thought that it would

“I will.” And like a scolded child, Bulma returned her pack to her shoulder and trudged towards Mt. Paozu.

 _Bulma Briefs, you are such a deceitful fool._ What could she have been thinking? Oh, she knew herself too well. She was aware of the culprit: hubris. The potential to brew the Elixir of Life appealed to her pride. A chance for a woman to distinguish herself in the field of alchemy was an opportunity she must take. And then there was Vegeta. He certainly did not deserve her protection. But she was intrigued by him. Intrigued by an emotionally damaged, possibly deranged criminal.

Bulma knitted her eyebrows. Before she returned home, she needed to visit the Sons.

*************

Bardock never seemed to tire.

Bulma had seen him work for hours, tending to his fields and planting his crops. He was an older man but time did not seem to slow him down. When she approached the Son’s farm, she saw him putting his new wheeled barrow to good use, stacking hoes, sickles and rakes in the contraption. When he noticed Bulma, he nodded respectfully. “Lady. I must thank you for this barrow.” He gestured at the tools he was placing in it. “Chi-Chi is at her bakery.”

“I actually needed to speak with you, if you have a moment.”

He looked at her strangely. Not many people sought Bardock’s gruff company. “I do.”

Bulma took a stick from their yard and began to draw an image in the dirt. She had studied the design on Vegeta’s pendant until it was ingrained in her memory. Bulma was hardly an artist but her lack of talent didn’t matter. When she had finished, she dropped the stick and brushed the dirt from her hands on her dress. The garment was so filthy, what was another layer of grime? “Does this symbol have any significance to you?”

Bardock nodded slowly. “It is… it is the royal symbol of Saiya.”

“I assumed so. And would you happen to remember the name of the prince of the royal family that was executed?”

“Of course I remember,” Bardock snarled. “Vegeta. His name was Vegeta. And he was a young boy dragged away like the rest of them. Now, do you need anything else? Or have you just come to torment me with memories?”

Bulma had been so intent on learning the truth that she had not stopped to consider the effect the words would have on Bardock. “That was not my intention, sir. I apologize.”

“And why the sudden interest in my homeland?”

“I’ve been reading a book on the history of Saiya.” Bulma internally winced. _Another lie._ “I appreciate you indulging my questions. I apologize for upsetting you.”

Bardock stared at Bulma. She could feel him picking her words apart. She was sure he did not believe her. But he let the untruth settle between them and apparently decided it was a battle he did not want to attempt. “I need to work.” Without another word he left Bulma, who was feeling a bit foolish and very crooked.

She had asked for truths. She did not want to settle for half-truths. And if she was lying for this man, she deserved more than half-truths.

*************

Bulma had never been so delighted to see the door to her home. She pulled it open and practically collapsed on the floor, leaning against her door and finally succumbing to exhaustion. She had no desire to ever be in combat again. She had no desire to ever go into the woods again. Bulma rubbed her blue eyes in attempt to rouse herself. There was one more conversation she needed to have before she could let herself collapse in her bed.

“Vegeta?” she called softly.

She saw his impressive head of hair emerge from the shadows of her home. “That took much longer than expected, Woman.”

The sight of his grouchy face infuriated her. Bulma stood to her feet, hands on her hips, anger in her face. “I asked for the truth from you.”

“I told you the truth,” he grumbled.

“You responded in half-truths!” Bulma retorted. “You neglected to mention that you’re a prince! Do you realize what this could mean for me and this village? To harbor not only a fugitive but a royal fugitive?”

“How… how did you…” he stammered. Bulma assumed Vegeta was rarely speechless.

“As if I would tell you. If I am going to lie for you, I deserve honesty from you.” Bulma pointed a finger into his chest. “I will tolerate no more evasive answers or fabrications from you. None. And understand this: I am not your hostage. I am your partner in this endeavor. I will come and go as I please and you will treat me with respect.”

“Tch.” Vegeta suddenly became interested in gazing at her wall to avoid meeting her gaze. “I agree.”

“Good.” Bulma stalked off behind the storefront towards her laboratory. _Why am I helping him?_ It was more than scientific curiosity and wanting to keep her friends same from harm. As she turned to look at his face, she could not help but feel compassion. His family had been murdered when he was a child. She had no idea of the horrors he had endured, constantly fleeing from the threat of Frieza. Had he ever been to a safe place? Was he ever able to truly rest without the threat of being murdered in his sleep? No one deserved that. Not even Vegeta.

Kami help her, he was an ass. Her curiosity would likely be the death of her.

“Come to my home tomorrow morning. After the sun rises. And we'll begin."

**Author's Note:**

> This story took quite a bit of research and I want to credit all of the amazing sources I used for this chapter.
> 
> The Alchemy Website was invaluable for this chapter and this entire story, and I quoted Ripley's Gates from their website: https://www.alchemywebsite.com/index.html
> 
> Zenni Optical (for the history of eyeglasses): https://www.zennioptical.com/blog/history-eyeglasses/
> 
> Smithsonian Magazine (it taught me all about astrolabes!): https://www.smithsonianmag.com/innovation/astrolabe-original-smartphone-180961981/
> 
> Encyclopedia Britannica (Aqua regia!): https://www.britannica.com/science/aqua-regia
> 
> And, finally, this website talks about how to make your flames different colors in neat science experiments: https://www.madisonco.com/fabulous-fun-facts-how-turn-fire-different-colors


End file.
